


Radar Is Adorable

by Hobsonphile



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobsonphile/pseuds/Hobsonphile
Summary: A collection of Radar ficlets originally written a decade ago.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mother makes a choice. Set during Radar's infancy.

_ “Hushabye, don't you cry/Go to sleepy little baby…” _

Edna O’Reilly’s knees ached, and she was sweating from the humidity of the room, but she continued to massage her sobbing child with an old washcloth, alternately humming and singing an old song her own mama learned back in North Carolina decades before.

_ “When you wake, you shall have/All the pretty little…” _

“Edna?”

Edna stopped her singing mid-sentence and reached up to take hold of Bob’s hand.

“Dr. Gallagher said the steam from a warm bath would open him right up.”

“You called on Dr. Gallagher then?”

“I had to. I didn’t like the look of his color.” Edna lifted the baby from the bath, swaddled him in a towel, and sat down on the edge of the old tub. She was relieved to see that even though Walter was still putting up something of a fuss, his lips were no longer tinged with blue. “And Lord knows,” she whispered, touching Walter’s nose lightly with one calloused finger, “two children in the ground is enough.” She looked up and took in the slump of her husband’s shoulders – the faded color of his threadbare pajamas – but said nothing further. Instead, she resumed her lullaby, rocking the baby gently in her arms.

_ “Blacks and bays/Dapples and grays…” _

“We’re late on the mortgage,” Bob said.

“I know it.” Edna struggled to soften the edge in her voice and only partially succeeded. “There ain’t hardly anybody here who isn’t.”

For a long moment, Walter’s wheezing and labored cries were the only sounds in the room.

“We still have the spring hogs to butcher. And I can ask the girls to gather more eggs from the hen house.”

“Hogs aren’t fetchin’ much in town; eggs, maybe ten cents.”

But Edna was unwilling to let go. “It’s still somethin’.”

“Reno’s men are fixin’ to declare another Holiday.”

“Only ol’ Ernest takes them Holidays seriously ‘round here.” The words were dismissive, but in Edna’s voice was a note of worry. A year before, she’d read in the papers that some farmers on their way to market were beaten by picketers up around Sioux City. And she still remembered the thrill of fright she felt the night she awoke and discovered that Ernest had set one of his corn fields ablaze. As far as she was concerned, there was something mighty unsettling about Milo Reno’s Holiday business. But instead of giving voice to her thoughts, Edna sighed and stood, her knees creaking in protest. Clutching Walter to her breast and brushing limp, moist hair out of her eyes, she leaned over and kissed the stubble on her husband’s crown. “We’ll take care of the hogs and chickens tomorrow. And there won’t be no trouble. You’ll see.”

But Old Ernest was more energetic than usual, and when Bob came home empty-handed the following evening, his lip split wide open, Edna could only mutter soft imprecations as she cleaned him up with the corner of a freshly washed apron.

“Lord, Lord, Lord. Ernest’s gone right crazy.” Dropping the apron into the wash basket, Edna sat down and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Ernest’s been threatened with foreclosure. He don’t know what else to do.”

Crickets chirped outside the open kitchen door. Bob swirled his spoon in his beef stew.

Then Edna drew in a breath, making a decision. “I’ll go tomorrow. Ernest won’t harm a lady no matter how mad he is.”

A week later, Bob noticed that his wife had stopped wearing her mother’s string of pearls.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radar arrives in Korea. Pre-pilot.

Squished between two privates, Radar held on tight to the edge of his seat as the jeep bumped over the hill, careened into the skeleton of a compound, and skidded to a halt beside an empty flagpole.

“We just pushed them back behind the 38th,” one sergeant had said when Radar had landed, airsick and shell-shocked, in Kimpo with the group from Fort Riley, “so there probably ain’t hardly anything there yet.” The guy wasn’t really wrong, though it looked to Radar like they’d already gotten a pretty good start.

After the others clambered out of the vehicle, Radar reached behind him to grab his duffle and attempted to do the same. His bag tore open as he climbed down, spilling some of his belongings into the dirt.

“Aw, jeez!” he cried. But there was no time to pick up the mess. Radar heard someone approaching and he froze, locking himself into a salute.

“For God’s sake, Henry,” said a voice. “They don’t even look old enough to shave. Especially not the kid in the middle.”

It was coming from a tall fellow wearing rumpled scrubs - one of the surgeons, Radar guessed. But there was something about his eyes – and something beneath them, too – like an unspoken joke that just stayed and stayed - that made Radar think he was a little wicked.

“Corporal O’Reilly reporting for duty, sirs!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, and the sound of his voice made him even more conscious of how small he felt.

“At ease, son,” said the second, older, man.

“Yeah, no regular Army stuff around here,” added the first. “We’re just a hospital. Can’t you tell? We even make the cockroaches scrub in.”

“Relax and get your gear in order first. Corporal – Captain Pierce will show you to your bunk.”

Radar exchanged a look with the man he now knew as Captain Pierce, then bent down and started to gather his shorts, stuffing them back into his ruptured duffle. “Actually,” said Pierce as he knelt down beside Radar, “it’s Hawkeye. And what do they call you besides Corporal O’Reilly?”

“Radar,” Radar replied shyly. “And I do too.”

“You do too what?”

“I shave.”

“Who said you didn’t?”

Radar looked up, confused. Then he registered the sincerity in Hawkeye’s eyes and realized what he’d heard before wasn’t out loud. “Um. Nothing. I mean, nobody.”

Radar sensed that Hawkeye thought he was a bit funny, but, surprisingly, he didn’t seem scared off by it. And finally, after a tense and terrifying journey, Radar began to relax – just a little.

“So why Radar?”

“Because sometimes I know what’s gonna happen before it happens. My ma says it runs in my dad’s family.”

As Radar turned to pick up his bag, he noticed one ragged ear peaking out from the tear in the duffle's side. Surreptitiously, he pushed his teddy bear back in. He wasn’t ready to tell anybody about that just yet.


	3. In the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radar’s lonely search for help – and an unexpected encounter. Set during "The Bus."

Radar shivered as a cool breeze whistled across the back of his neck, and he stopped to get his bearings, resting his hand on the rough bark of a nearby tree. He guessed that he had been walking through the forest for about an hour, but he hadn’t seen or heard anyone. That realization made his heart sink into his boots.

He peered up at the smattering of stars that twinkled through the gaps in the forest canopy, then sighed and continued forward, one foot in front of the other, his boots crunching through the underbrush. He was starting to get sleepy – the kind of chest-crushing exhaustion he sometimes felt after a long and busy shift in triage – but every time he remembered that Hawkeye, Captain Hunnicut, Major Burns, and the colonel were waiting for rescue back on the bus, staying awake turned out to be easy to do. After all, no fellow could lie down and sleep once his stomach started aching something fierce.

A noise interrupted Radar’s reverie, and he stopped again, his heart racing. Something was lumbering through the bushes; he could hear it some distance off. Gingerly, trying not to break the twigs beneath his feet, he retreated behind a tree trunk and held his breath, waiting and listening.

After a time, a heavy, inhuman form emerged from the brush, and Radar covered his mouth with a trembling hand, his eyes widening in both alarm and amazement as it approached. It looked like a bear -  _ Do they have bears in Korea? _ \- but in the dim light, it was difficult to know for sure. All Radar could make out clearly was a crescent of glistening white fur.

The animal’s breathing was harsh – labored. It continued to draw closer, and for several terrifying, bladder-weakening moments, Radar was certain it was coming for him. He closed his eyes as the smell of wet fur overtook him – braced himself when a gust of hot air hit his face.

And then Radar heard it fall – heard dead wood snapping under its weight – and he dared to look again. Now on its side, the creature released one final gasp and then was still.

For a long time, Radar remained frozen in place, unwilling to trust his own instinct. Then, swallowing hard, he crept towards the body. Reaching out his hand, he let it hover for a moment over the bear’s hide, then pulled it back. This close, he could see that its fur was matted with clotted blood.

At the time, Radar didn’t think it was silly to pull down a few branches and cover the poor animal. It was a beautiful creature, after all, and one of God’s. Only afterwards did it occur to him that whatever killed the bear might be lurking nearby. But even though that very thought renewed his fear, he continued walking, hugging himself against the chill of the night.

An aghast Hawkeye threatened to kill Radar when he told the story some hours later.


	4. The Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during "Dear Mildred."

_ When the world says, "Give up," Hope whispers, "Try it one more time." _

\-- Author Unknown

Radar knew that Hawkeye didn’t understand – and that Captain Hunnicut was thinking merciful euthanization – a word Radar guessed probably meant killing – might be the best option. But it didn’t matter because Radar had convinced them, and they were helping, however reluctantly. Holding the sedated horse’s head in his arms and rubbing his cheek against her skin, Radar closed his eyes, relieved in his victory.

The procedure was simpler than anyone had anticipated once the sedatives had taken effect. Within a day, the horse had nearly kicked apart the rest of the shed, and Radar was forced to sneak her to a new hiding place.

From that point on, Radar spent every free moment with the horse, disappearing for hours at a time - and even, on some evenings, falling asleep on the straw beside her. Hawkeye woke him up from this position once, concerned, but Radar, self-consciously brushing pieces of straw out of his hair, assured him that he was okay and no, he was not becoming a single-minded fruitcake.

That’s probably why Hawkeye and Captain Hunnicut came by one day and encouraged him to give the horse to one of the local farmers. But Radar remained resolute, Hawkeye and Captain Hunnicut left, night fell, and Radar stayed with the horse, brushing her beautiful hide and feeding her vegetables he’d pilfered from the mess. Deep down, he knew that his friends were right – that he couldn’t hide her forever. But the thought of giving her up filled him with the strange choking sensation he’d been fighting ever since –

The horse shifted restlessly, releasing a low whinny of complaint, and Radar wrapped his arms around her muscular neck, burying his face in her mane. “’Sallright, girl,” he murmured. “Don’t pay me no mind at all. We’re gonna be just fine.”

That was something most folks didn’t understand – animals could hear your ghosts. The others had heard them, too, when Major Burns ordered Radar to release them all. “I won’t have your filthy vermin contaminating the compound,” the major had said. “This is a hospital. If Colonel Blake – God rest his soul – had cared at all about regulations, he would’ve shipped these creatures out months ago.” And Radar obeyed because Major Burns was his commanding officer and no amount of righteous hollering from Hawkeye was going to change that one bit. Radar obeyed, loading every single cage into a jeep and driving them up into the hills where, he hoped, they wouldn’t be hit by any ambulances barreling down the road. Hawkeye had gone with him then, and he didn’t say a single word. He just silently fumed as Radar said goodbye to Black Beauty, Mungo, Fluffy, Dopey, and all the others.

Before he released them, Radar remembered, they’d skittered about in their cages, nervous and expectant. And when Radar picked up the last possum and rubbed his - by then - wet face against her fur, he had felt her little heart racing beneath his fingers. Yes – they’d known. It was like they could smell it in Radar’s skin.

Radar hoped – oh, he hoped – that Colonel Potter – even though he was regular army - would turn out to be different if he found his clerk harboring an abandoned horse. He was cavalry once, after all, and seemed to have a love for horses in particular.

Then a noise startled Radar, and he squeezed the horse tight, willing it to hush. It was Majors Burns and Houlihan walking towards the colonel’s office. Dispensing with his usual reluctance to deliberately listen to people in every way he could, he concentrated on their conversation – and the not-words beneath. That’s when he remembered – and felt his heart flutter with excitement.

Later, as Radar watched Colonel Potter lead his gift through the compound, he felt genuinely happy for the first time in a long while.

“You know, Radar,” Hawkeye mused, resting his hand on the top of Radar’s cap, “before we get that drink, you may want to stop by the showers.”

“Huh?”

“You smell like horse.”

“Oh, yeah?” Radar squirmed out from under Hawkeye’s touch and glared at him indignantly. “Well, when’s the last time you washed your socks, huh?” He jumped up and tried to snatch his cap from Hawkeye’s hand. Grinning, Hawkeye pulled it away, then wrapped that arm around Radar’s shoulders, ruffling Radar’s hair with his other hand. His chin stiff, Radar worked his hat free from Hawkeye’s grasp and pulled it back down over the tops of his ears.

Hawkeye’s laughter could be heard for miles around.


	5. Without Their Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-"Goodbye, Radar."

_ "We wake in the night, to stereophonic silence." _

~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960

Walter awoke with a start, his heart racing in his chest. While groping for his glasses with one hand, he disentangled himself from his sheets with the other and swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed. The images of his interrupted dream were already fading, but the disorientation still lingered. It wasn't until he slipped his glasses over his ears and registered the floral pattern of the wall paper that he remembered where he was.

He was home – he had been for several days now. And Mitzy, his cat, was perched on his dresser peering at him, her eyes reflecting moonlight.

Walter scratched the back of his neck, then padded across the room and gently lifted Mitzy off the dresser, pulling her to his chest. “You know you're not s'posed to be up there, honey,” he murmured. Stroking her fur, he carried her into the hallway, set her down at the top of the stairs, and watched as she darted out of sight. Then he righted his overturned trash can and crawled into bed.

Sometime later, he was still awake, mentally tracing the cracks in the ceiling and breathing in the remnants of an early evening rain shower that periodically wafted into his room on a light breeze that whispered through his open window.

In Korea, Radar – or Walter – very few people called him Radar here, yet it was difficult to stop thinking of himself in that way - had once told Mr. Clete Roberts that sometimes he wished for a room of his own. But now it seemed wrong to be alone in this quiet place. There was no artillery fire in the distance. There were no choppers, no late night phone calls, and no frantic arousals. And the ebb and flow that existed at sub-hearing – those murmurs and impulses that he could somehow catch on their way to speech - was vastly diminished.

The last, Walter was beginning to recognize, was the sound he missed most of all.


	6. Mother's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edna’s first Mother’s Day without her little boy.

Walter was raised to cherish forever. Many days, he watched as Edna clipped stories from the local paper and glued them onto the yellowing pages of her scrap book. When Walter was small, he would help, kneeling on his chair and straining to grab the cement with hands muddy from digging for frogs in the banks of a nearby creek. When he was small, he would bring his momma pictures he had made at the school house – pictures of the farm, of his aunts and uncles, and of her – stick figures with round heads and too-large eyes standing in bright green, thickly-painted fields. “Are ya gonna put it in the book, momma?” he would ask, unmindful of the fact that still-wet paint was dripping onto the freshly-mopped kitchen floor. And Edna never, ever refused him.

When Walter was old enough to help on the farm, he started bringing Edna little cards and flowers. And though he stopped asking, his eyes wide and eager, if she would preserve those things alongside pictures of her at the county fair standing beside her prize-winning jam, she kept every gift. In her books, pressed onto page after page, was a field of dry wildflowers.

And after these, she glued her son’s most recent letter.

_ Dear Ma- _

_ It’s still April here in Korea, but I’m writing to say Happy Mother's Day now because I don’t know how busy I’m gonna be a few weeks from now, and I don’t know how long the mail’s gonna take. So Happy Mother's Day, Ma. I love you, and I miss you… _

A few months ago, Edna had made Walter’s bed and gathered the laundry Walter had left behind, storing his socks away in his dresser drawers. But though his bedroom was cleaner, it didn’t feel empty - not yet. Fading pictures were still tacked to the walls. Comic books were still stacked on his nightstand. And the cat lay curled on Walter’s pillow as if she expected him to return any day now and nuzzle his face into her soft fur.

Edna sat on Walter’s bedspread and fingered his letter, unable to read beyond the first few lines.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Arrival [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136294) by [Sab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sab/pseuds/Sab)




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